


Plaything

by SyrenGrey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Blood Kink, Dark, Dom/sub, Dominance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forceful, Heavy BDSM, Loss of Virginity, Masochism, Porn With Plot, Possessive Tom Riddle, Post-War, Pussy Spanking, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sex, Spanking, Tom Riddle is His Own Warning, Twisted, breast spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24076861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyrenGrey/pseuds/SyrenGrey
Summary: You didn't even let me tell you that I have a special gift for you today, precious girl,the diary read.A gift? What gift?The unexpected sound of a knock on her door jolted Hermione and her eyes flew toward the sound. Who’d visit at this hour? She was sequestered to the quiet Head Girl dormitories, tucked away in a corner of the castle with minimal foot-traffic. Perhaps a Prefect on patrol?"Em, who is it?" Her voice rang higher than usual, pitched with a certain sense of anxiety.Writing began to appear in the pages of the diary.It's me.------Tom pays Hermione a visit late at night. Nothing is ever the same.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle
Comments: 24
Kudos: 364
Collections: Tomione, Tomione Smut Fest 2020





	Plaything

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [TomioneSmutFest20](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TomioneSmutFest20) collection. 



> **Please read the tags. This is not remotely vanilla.**  
>  This was written for the Tomione Smut Fest 2020. Prompt was Time Travel.  
> This is an AU. Ginny does not get the Riddle Diary and Hermione stumbles upon it without prior knowledge of its significance. Post-War/8th Year.
> 
> Thank you to the incredible [geekiebeekie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekiebeekie/pseuds/geekiebeekie) and [weestarmeggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weestarmeggie/pseuds/weestarmeggie) for your invaluable Alpha/beta help and support. 
> 
> Please do not re-upload my work on other sites/servers without my explicit consent (you can obviously share on things like Facebook or tumblr, but please use the links of my original stories).
> 
> I am responsive so please reach out if you have any questions.
> 
> S  
> 

  


Hermione Granger had few secrets left of her own. Everything she'd held in close regard had been quietly transcribed into the pages of her diary — the diary that wrote back. 

It sat open, each page blank and waiting to be filled. She could see the dark lines forming in her periphery as words appeared, scratching against the parchment with ink that was not her own and thoughts that she did not have. 

_Arithmancy homework again?_

Hermione smirked. It knew her too well, this diary. Tom, as it preferred to be called. 

_Twelve page paper due tomorrow._

_You finished that three days ago._

_Revising._

_Ah. And what are you wearing as you revise this paper?_

Hermione rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips.

_Black lace nightgown._

She wasn't. Hermione didn't even own one black lace anything, but Tom had a penchant for asking these types of questions and she humoured him, having made the mistake once of answering honestly — denim jeans and a jumper — and had to read a lecture on why she should dress a bit more witchlike than that, and what is denim, anyway? 

_Has any man ever dressed you before?_

A flare of heat rose up her neck as she considered where the trail of questions were leading.

_No. I'd never let a man dress me._

_You'd let me dress you._

She cleared her throat, certain that she absolutely would not. Still, she forced down the smile that sprung at his attention.

_Perhaps, if you won me over._

_Haven’t I already?_

The smile broke free. 

_How many men have you been with?_

Hermione gaped at the intrusive words. 

_You know that's none of your business, Tom. Do you speak to other women that way?_

_You’re not other women, you know that._

She tried to swallow the combination of shyness and intrigue that bloomed in her.

_Have you ever been with a man before?_

Hermione blinked then promptly slammed the diary shut. The words burned in her skull as she shook her head. 

While she’d gotten somewhat used to his exploratory inquiries, and even appreciated them at times, _some_ times when he was in a particular mood or when they spoke late into the night, his questions became a bit more — penetrative. 

She admittedly didn’t know too much about him, except that he was a student at Hogwarts in 1945 and he was the only man, if one could call him that, who could keep up with practically any subject Hermione broached. He matched her in curiosity, though she seemed to be his favourite subject.

Hermione sighed and pushed her chair back, rushing to grab the book again.

 _Quite rude to walk away mid-conversation_ , it read. 

Hermione winced at the words. 

_I know_ — _I’m sorry._

_Are you? You didn't even let me tell you that I have a special gift for you today, precious girl._

_A gift? What gift?_

The unexpected sound of a knock on her door jolted her and her eyes flew toward the sound. Who’d visit at this hour? She was sequestered to the quiet Head Girl dormitories, tucked away in a corner of the castle with minimal foot-traffic. Perhaps a Prefect on patrol? 

"Em, who is it?" Her voice rang higher than usual, pitched with a certain sense of anxiety. 

Writing began to appear in the pages of the diary again.

_It's me._

Hermione nearly choked on a laugh. 

"Right, ‘course it is." 

_Open the door, Hermione._

"There's no way."

Another knock. 

Hermione smoothed her skirt — she didn't know why, didn't even fully believe what was happening, yet still she nervously palmed her uniform skirt and ran her hand over her hair. Her heart was leaping out of her chest, threatening to come out of her throat as she touched the door handle. 

She twisted it and pulled the door open. 

Whatever need she had of breathing was forgotten as she stared at the figure in her doorway.

"Hello, Hermione," the man said, smirking as Hermione’s gaze landed on the small black book he tucked into his back pocket. "I'm Tom." 

Tom. Tom, from the diary. _Tom?_

He was tall, with a thin frame and square shoulders. Dark hair was neatly slicked and combed back in a deep part. His hazel eyes did not flicker from her face while hers wandered without knowing where to land. Handsome was a word she’d use to describe him, but it felt far too simple. 

“You’re more lovely than you made yourself seem,” Tom said.

Hermione stammered, another blush crawling up her neck. His head tilted to the side as his eyes drifted over her; it felt intrusive to be looked at with such open discernment and she could see in the subtle downward tilt of his lips that he was disappointed in her fashion choice. The look disappeared, replaced by a polite smile as his eyes lifted to her face. 

“May I come in?” 

“Y-yes, of course,” she stumbled backwards, still gaping. “Wh-what are you doing here? Is it really you?” 

“It is, dear.” 

_Dear._ So formal, so old-fashioned, so _Tom_. 

“Why? How?” 

“I wanted to see you,” he said. The way he spoke made it seem like that was all he meant to say, but it hardly sated Hermione’s curiosity.

“Well? Aren’t you going to greet me properly?” 

Tom tilted his head upward, gazing down at her with a confident smile that made Hermione’s heart flutter. He offered his hand and she took it. With a gentle urging tug, he beckoned her forward and she felt the weight of his other hand press against the small of her back. It descended in a slow line, following the curve of her spine. She could smell him, the fresh scent of soap and an overly-masculine pomade that he’d used to slick his hair back in a neat 1940’s style. 

Tom pressed a delicate, soft kiss against her cheekbone before withdrawing with a polite smile. 

“Nice to meet you, Hermione,” Tom said. His voice, silken and smooth, warmed her to the bone. 

“I didn’t realise you were a Slytherin,” she teased, catching sight of the wide silver and green tie that hung loosely around his neck. She noticed the subtle differences between his vintage attire and the uniform her male classmates wore. He looked quite dapper and prim. “And Head Boy! You failed to mention that.”

“You didn’t ask, dear.” 

“Mm, I think I did, but you chose to change the subject.” 

Tom’s lips pulled in a soft smile.

“You really are far more attractive than I expected,” he said. His voice was soft like a sweet caress, eyes piercing in their appraisal of her beauty. “And saved yourself entirely for me, my I should be flattered.”

Hermione chuckled nervously, the words a bit too forward for her liking. She pressed a foot back, instinctive in the sudden need to pull away as an intrusive blush crept over her features. Tom didn’t let her move, his firm hold remained on her back, keeping her pinned against him. His eyes trailed over her lips and down to her collarbone, settling on the spot where her pulse fluttered like a snitch’s wings. 

“Now that I’ve seen you, I’d love to see more,” his gaze kept trailing downward. 

“Tom —” 

He tilted his head at the start of her protest.

“You do want me, don’t you? You’ve all but invited me into your mind, telling me all your feelings and simple fantasies. Shared with me how _lonely_ you’ve been without your friends, how utterly insignificant you’ve felt.” His gaze snapped to hers. “Do you feel insignificant now, Hermione?” 

A flurry of hot and cold filled her veins, clammy shivers drifting over her skin while each one of his words fed her nerves like kindling. His grip on her back loosened, though his touch never lifted. It drew a trail over the wide curve of her hip, rising over her waist where he barely grazed over her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat and gaze averted at his exploration.

“You know, I’ve spent months researching this magic to bring myself here — to you.” 

He pressed a kiss to her temple, leaving a burning imprint where his lips had touched.

“We don’t have forever,” his fingers pushed her chin up, encouraging her gaze to meet his. “I want to see you. _All_ of you, Hermione.”

It was all so sudden — all so _much_. She wondered if it was all a dream; she half-expected to wake up with ink on her face after having fallen asleep on the diary like she’d done countless times. Yet the way her heart fluttered and heat sparked in her belly, it certainly _felt_ real. 

“You haven’t even kissed me yet, Tom.”

She willed her gaze to remain on his, mustered a playful pout, even — something she imagined women did as a means of seduction or romantic mischief. 

At that, a smile formed on his lips and he quirked an amused brow.

“You’re right, I haven’t. How silly of me.” 

He dipped his head, his lips hovering over hers. Gods, the man she’d spent over a year pouring her heart out to was here, in the flesh. She could feel her heart pumping in her ears. 

There was something in his kiss that made the hair on her skin rise like a static pull. He was tender in the way he tilted her head and embraced her. It made the butterflies she’d felt so long for him flutter, alive and active in her stomach. 

Tom withdrew, his eyes expectant as his gaze dropped to her neckline without words. She knew what he wanted, and her hands rose to her top before she could talk herself out of it. The pleased look on his face was incentive enough for her to endure their rather quick pace.

“Very good, kitten,” he cooed. “You _can_ take orders, perhaps I’ll enjoy you after all. Now, where is your bed?” 

Hermione bristled at the condescension in his tone, but it burned away by the heat of embarrassment as his eyes wandered over her slowly undressing form before flitting to the back room — her bedroom. 

Impatience flared in his eyes as Hermione hesitantly tugged off the rest of her shirt before following him to her small bedroom. It was so odd to think he was there almost in the same way he’d been when she’d spent hours pouring her sorrow into the pages of the diary, and he’d soothe her with sweet reminders of her worth.

The door clicked shut, flooding her vision with darkness before Tom cast a quiet charm that made her lanterns flicker with fresh candlelight. 

“You’re not in a black lace nightgown like you said you were.” He ran his fingertips over her bookshelf and eyes wandered idly over her desk. “I’m quite displeased that you lied to me. You’ve been lying to me about your attire for months, I suspect.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft as a whisper in its sudden shame.

He picked up a snowglobe, a muggle souvenir given by her parents — parents that no longer knew she existed. She tensed visibly enough for Tom’s gaze to drift to her, a sudden look of interest in his normally placid face. 

“And your bra, please, Hermione.” 

“Tom,” Hermione said, her voice quaking as she watched him calmly place the snowglobe on the desk, “could we talk a bit, first?” 

“We’ve been talking all day,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

He took a step toward her. He trailed his fingertips over her cheeks and up her jaw where he pinched her earlobe between index and thumb. He gave it a little tug, experimental, though sharp enough to incite a sting. “I don’t have a wellspring of patience, dear. I came here for you — I’d very much like to enjoy you while I can.”

“I’m just nervous. Is that — ” her words were broken by an anxious breath as Tom’s hand trailed down her form and slipped under her skirt, “— s-so absurd?” 

Her spine straightened and she sucked in a gasp at the sudden pressure of two digits sliding over the gusset of her knickers.

“ _Tom!_ ”

Tom’s eyes twinkled with amusement. 

“There’s no need to act coy around me, kitten. You forget; I know you. I know how much you want this, you’re starved for attention, look — you’re soaked. Come, let’s see that beautiful body.”

Hermione felt the urge to obey him. She couldn’t make sense of it, but she instinctively reached behind and fumbled with the strap, her movements significantly less coordinated as she felt Tom’s fingers hook into the elastic of her knickers and tug down. She nearly yelped when she felt his fingers trail up her thighs, up to her bare bottom where he gave her a squeeze. 

“It’s almost hard to believe a lovely creature like you waited for me all this time.”

Tom’s eyes trailed over her bare breasts as Hermione dropped her bra to the floor. His gaze drank in the nude sight of her, over the rosy peaks of her nipples and down the soft curve of her pale stomach, to her skirt. 

“You ignored the men in your class, dismissed their obvious interest in you — the Malfoy boy, taunting you when all he wants is to bury his face between your legs. Your old friend Potter, who is obviously desperate to stuff his cock into you. You could have had anyone — why wait?” 

His hands trailed down the curves of her hips, one reaching to pry her knees apart while the other slipped into the soft mound of curls which gave way to soaked lips, warm and inviting, offered with ease. 

“I wanted it to be special,” Hermione breathed.

 _I wanted you_ , she yearned to say, though even in her isolation it felt like a fanciful dream. He was forever unattainable, trapped decades apart. Yet, here he stood.

Hermione let out a moan when he found her clit, the light pressure made her knees shake. She’d never been quite so vulnerable like this before — not physically. It felt fitting for it to be with him. He was so alluring. The way the light flickered over his features, keen eyes penetrating as they dusted over her face and naked form, she felt so seen. 

“ _Special._ ”

Hermione let out a soft sigh as Tom’s fingers played with her, inducing sounds from her lips that filled the quiet room.

“You waited —”

With a quick move of his arm, she felt two fingers probe into her without warning as a sharp pain tore between her legs. She cried out, her whole body jerking from the rupture that made tears sting her eyes. As quickly as the pressure came, it disappeared as Tom pulled back, standing before her.

“— all this time —” 

Through involuntary tears that pooled in her eyes, she saw him hold up two fingers. They were gleaming and dark with her blood as he appraised them.

“ — for _this?_ ” 

Hermione whimpered, helpless as she watched him turn his fingers over, spreading the digits apart as a thin string of her arousal connected between them, stained red with the blood of her maidenhood. 

“Well, there you go — it’s mine.”

Tom reached for her and Hermione stood in frozen horror as he smeared his fingers against her bare breasts. She couldn’t look away as red trails marked their way with the swipe of his fingers over the ivory skin and rosy peaks of her nipples, tauntingly toying with one before he marked the other. Her horror doubled as she watched her nipples tighten under his touch and fill her body with heat. They swelled under his attention as her own blood marked her — as his? 

“Beautiful,” Tom breathed, giving her left nipple a quick squeeze and watching as she jumped. “You’re quite skittish, aren’t you? It’s lovely. I’ll take you in full, now, dear. If you’ll only lay on the bed and spread your legs for me.” 

Hermione glanced up at him, her eyes wide and skin blanched as she shook startled and still trembling from his sudden assault. 

“Hermione?” 

“I — ”

“Are you planning on denying me?” His eyes gleamed. “Disobeying me?”

“N-n —”

“Good.” 

He didn’t even let her get the word out, not that she could as words and bravery fled her. Tom was so calm as he reached up to unbutton his top, emotion and passion invisible in his face as if he hadn’t just torn her hymen and smeared the reminder on her breasts. 

His eyes flicked up. 

“You’re not doing what I asked.”

“I —”

A flash of _something_ appeared in his eyes. She could suddenly sense the tension of flaring emotion — was it rage? — simmering one thin layer under his fading cool visage. 

“I’ve been _exceedingly_ patient with you,” his words were spoken through gritted teeth like a growl that filled ice in her bones, “still, you insist —” 

She felt the swish of air first, then saw the blur of his hand fall hard with a piercing smack as his hand collided against the side of her breast. Pain bloomed instantly on the place he struck, and she barely had a moment to yelp and flinch when his hand rose again. 

“— on pushing me —”

There was no opportunity to withdraw from his torturous treatment as a second blow landed on her left breast, forcing the tender flesh to bounce with radiating stings. Heat rose to the surface of her assaulted skin as she protectively wrapped her arms around her body. She scampered back until her knees hit the mattress and caused her to stumble back onto the bed. 

Tom cleared his throat. The rage she’d encountered in the dark of his eyes dissolved as he gently massaged the hand that struck her and, with a jarring calmness, his eyes met hers. 

“Thank you, kitten.” 

Her breathing was erratic as she struggled to comprehend this — him. Her Tom. This didn’t make any sense. 

Hermione’s eyes flashed to the exit, blocked by his presence. A cold shiver danced down her spine as Tom leaned forward, hovering over her body as he gripped her wrists and urged them to her sides. Her mind fought to understand why her head tilted back when Tom’s lips dotted hot kisses over the tender, bruising skin and he captured her nipple in his mouth. She seized as he sucked hard enough for it to sting and elicit whimpers from her throat, but with enough care for his tongue to quickly ameliorate any discomfort she’d felt. 

“There’s no need to be frightened of me, Hermione,” he whispered against her skin. “I have no reason to hurt my plaything if she obeys me.” 

“Plaything?” Hermione breathed, her voice thin as she let out an incredulous laugh. “Is that what I am? Your — _plaything_?” 

Tom smiled.

Fingers disappeared under her skirt and made their presence known as he pressed against her swollen, throbbing bundle of nerves. He massaged the skin, dark eyes watching as her back helplessly arched before him while his other hand idly tugged off his tie and undid the buttons of his shirt. 

She hated herself as she did it, but Hermione whimpered as his fingers left her body and he reached to undo his belt. Heat rose up her neck as she watched him tug down his trousers with no pants underneath to shield her from the sight of his full nudity. 

“You’re so shy around me, Hermione,” his voice fell, placed somewhere between tenderness and a subtle challenge as Tom stepped forward, his legs grazing against hers. 

He leaned over her. Chest touched chest as he planted a hot kiss to her jaw, then chin. She squirmed as he dipped two fingers into her entrance and withdrew only to bring them to her lips where he traced her mouth. She could smell herself, the mixture of tart arousal and coppery blood. 

Hermione stiffened when his tongue ran over her bottom lip and pressed at the line of her mouth. The scent of metal filled her head before it filled her mouth, delivered by his prodding, assertive tongue that explored her freely. It all felt so impeccably debauched, but her whole body was alight with desire for him, especially as he leaned forward and she felt him — his cock, rigid for her, slide against her slit. 

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” He taunted. “Say it.”

“I’ve been waiting for you, Tom,” Hermione sighed, her head lolling back as he quietly tugged off her skirt. He pressed his palm possessively over the soft sprinkling of warm brown curls while his thumb gently grazed her folds. Tom pulled his hips back and pushed forward, his cock slipping into the outer layer of her lips, already growing damp with her arousal. 

“You’re so responsive, little dove. It’s hard to believe this sweet little cunt has felt neither a man’s given pleasure nor pain.” 

“Pain?” 

Tom’s brow rose, the smirk on his lips deepened. 

“Mm, I hoped you’d asked — though you deserve this for lying to me so it wouldn’t have mattered.” 

Tom took a step back, the dark look he gave her caused a pang in her stomach. Without explanation, he gripped her thigh, holding her legs wide open.

“Make noise for me, kitten.” 

His swift hand came down, hard and heavy as it landed on her with a loud smack; a flare of blinding pain burned where he struck on her clit and soaked lips. 

Hermione shrieked, her back arching and body contorting to shield herself. His fingernails dug into the supple flesh of her inner thigh as he fixed her with a look of warning that rendered her more terrified of challenging him than giving him free reign. Her hand fell away with a whimper. 

“Louder, stupid girl.” 

Tom struck her again, fingers tactical in their aim to strike hardest on the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her shoulders heave with a sudden sob. 

“You’d better not lie to me again,” he growled, his fingers releasing from her thigh to grip his rigid cock which he positioned between her lips and thrust forward without warning. 

Hermione let out a choked cry as he fell on top of her, hands on each side of her head as his hips mashed against hers. He was so incredibly hard, the hunger in his eyes unfitting with the disgusted sneer on his lips as he fucked her until she saw white. 

“The next time you tell me you’re wearing black lace, it’d better be true.” 

He filled her, stretched her wide around his raging erection that paid no mind to her tightness or discomfort — relished it, even, with each thrust. With each desperate sound she made, Tom’s cock seemed to twitch and bore into her harder. Her pain fed his lust. 

“If I have to travel fifty years to ensure your honesty —” he withdrew, “— I —” he slammed hard into her, “— will.” 

She couldn’t differentiate pleasure from pain as every nerve ending seemed to fire simultaneously at his attention. Her cunt still throbbed from where he’d struck her, though the pain gradually melted into a pulsing heat that felt so _very_ good. This was not right — this was not how she’d envisioned it — _him_. 

He was so — utterly — mean, and —

“Say it, slut,” he hissed, his breath hot against her temple.

Even with his assaultive thrusts, mean taunts, and callous words, Hermione’s body betrayed her. Her cunt clenched around him, dripping with every added cruelty. Her back arched, desperate to accommodate his fill. 

“Yes, Sir. I-I promise I won’t lie again.” 

He froze, eyes flashing open to seek her face as he gave her the first look of surprise she’d seen in him. 

“Sir,” he repeated. “Mm, I quite like that.” 

He fucked the life out of her, spilling groans into her hair and mouth before he dipped his head and pressed his lips against her neck in a random combination of bites and sucks that made Hermione’s hips buck. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He growled before sinking his teeth into the soft skin of her throat. She cried out, her spine curled, her legs hooked around him. “To be marked by me? What will you tell your classmates tomorrow?” 

The slap of his hips against hers filled her head, matching half her pulse that drummed with a twisted combination of fear and need. She bit back a cry as his hand found her throat and Tom’s cock stabbed into her with sweltering lust. 

“You’re mine now,” he breathed, his own voice jagged and broken, “I waited so long to have you.”

He pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss that seemed intent on devouring her. It was searing. She could taste the tension and intensity in his quickly roaming tongue which caused jolts of pressure to flare in her lower abdomen. Teeth dug into her lower lip, stinging like tearing skin as a helpless whimper barely escaped. 

His fingers squeezed her throat, withholding life-giving air from her lungs until her breaths were sucked in through wheezes and she reached out for him, gripping his bicep and shaking his arm in a panic. 

“Say it.” 

There were no words. There wasn’t air for words, nor room in her mind to comprehend his request. Hermione’s eyes rolled upward, the tension in her throat causing her temples to pulse and — something else. An unnatural frenzy that built in her bones and boiled in her blood, swelling in waves of bliss as consciousness slipped through her fingers like water.

“Say — it — ”

“Hhh —”

“Disobedient slut!” Tom snapped his hips back and, in a motion that Hermione’s dazed mind couldn’t comprehend, his hand struck — hard — between her legs. As oxygen filled her head, so, too, did burning pain as he tormented her cunt, spanking her sex like it had personally offended him. She tried to pry her legs shut as the strikes pierced her like hot knives. 

“Please — please Tom!”

“Say you’re mine.” 

“I’m yours! I’m yours, yours —oh — yours, Tom,” the words passed her lips without thought or care as he pressed a kiss, then another, on the throbbing spot that ached with such sore starvation that his touch was instant remedy. She cried with relief when his tongue swiped against the swollen nerves, frayed and abused yet throbbing for his touch.

Two fingers shoved themselves into her, quickly becoming three as Hermione cried out at the stretch. They swiftly withdrew and he pressed them against her cheeks, over her stomach, on her thighs, painting her with the remaining blood that had seeped and mixed with her arousal.

“Mine,” he smiled, looking at her like a work of aberrant art he’d just completed. 

Without another word, his cock slipped back in and he took her — riding himself unrelentingly at his own pace as Hermione let out moan after moan in response. He took her with a savage frenzy, growl and groan mixing in her ears in response to her body clenching around him until his teeth found her neck and her shriek of pain drove him over the edge, causing his hips to jerk and cock to twitch in her as he came. She could feel his rapture against her, the promise of ecstasy as it trembled in his muscles and drifted over her in his broken breath.

A thin sheen of sweat adorned his pale skin as he withdrew, eyes even darker now as Hermione lay quivering and unresolved on the bed. His gaze trailed over the crimson marks and traced a line to her cunt that wept with his seed. 

Tom shoved two fingers into her. The obscene sound of his come squishing in her elicited a small squeak that he found all too amusing. He worked her body with his fingers before his other hand rose to caress her sensitive button. He pinched her there, eyes flicking up to see her response.

“Mine,” he said. The word was calmer this time, without the heat of starvation in his tone, but it made a chill drift through her just the same. 

“Yours, Tom,” she sighed. 

He had a quiet fascination with the come on his fingers as it entered and exited her body, but Hermione hardly had time to consider it as she threw her head back and he coaxed her to where he wanted her — climax. Her body shuddered, blood-stained tits bounced and aching clit throbbed under his touch as he stole it from her, forcing her body to quake and tremble for him. 

_Mine,_ he’d repeat, boring it into her skull, penetrating her malleable thoughts and ensuring her understanding as he solidified it through the orgasm that rippled through her.

 _Yours,_ she’d ensure, the word mindless and instinctive, something her heart and body seemed to agree upon without care for logic. 

She quaked helplessly against him as her whole body erupted with a thousand flames that coursed through her muscles like Fiendfyre. For a moment, the drugging flames quenched her starvation for him and soon she felt nothing as her exhausted body succumbed to sleep.

When she awoke the next morning, she wondered if it had all been a dream. If Tom — enigmatic, elusive Tom — had really paid her a visit. It was ludicrous, but her body ached and the sight of pink and purple skin painted red urged memories to flood back into consciousness. 

Hermione swallowed the knot that formed as she glanced at the diary on her desk. She lifted it, fingers slipping between the sheets as she flipped to a random page.

It already had writing in it. Hermione’s heart pounded as her eyes flitted over the words:

_I’ll be back for you, my dear. Expect me._

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:**  
>  Really enjoying swimming in the Tomione pond. He's a twisted delight.
> 
> If you're in the mood for more pure smut, might I suggest the following:  
> [The Gift (LuciusxHermionexSeverus)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23271853/chapters/55731619), [Plunderer and Prey (Lumione)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23674168), [Empty Threats (Dramione)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23070892), and [Hall of Sighs (Tomione)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064588)).
> 
> Pleeease leave me a comment if you liked this! Feed my perversions with your love. 
> 
> All my love (and more ;D)  
> Syren  
> \---  
> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://syrengrey.tumblr.com/) and [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/syren.greyy)


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